


Prayer For the Living

by seimaisin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen encounters Leandra Hawke in the Chantry, after the end of Act 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayer For the Living

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my May fic challenge, shared with [cherith](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cherith) \- one of us posts a fic on Tumblr every other day for the whole month.

The woman sat alone on a bench, head bowed over her hands. Cullen didn't normally bother with those who came to the Chantry for solace, but something about her - the way her shoulders were set, the utter stillness of her body - somehow made him curious. Instead of continuing on to speak to the Grand Cleric, as was his goal, he stopped next to the bench. "Good day, mistress," he said softly.

The woman looked up. Her gaze was strong, intelligent - somehow familiar to Cullen, in a way he couldn't place. "Ser," she acknowledged, inclining her head. Cullen could see tear tracks on her face, but her expression bore no sign of them. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you," he said, "but I feel like we've met before."

She blinked. "No," she replied, "I'm sorry, but I don't often make the acquaintance of Templars." At that, for some reason, her face crumbled. She bit her bottom lip and she looked back down at her hands. "I almost wish I had," she murmured, almost to herself. "I'd rather the Templars ..."

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I apologize, I'm not in a very good place right now."

"Is there anything I might do to help?"

"No. No, there isn't, but thank you for asking." She looked back up, gaze still steady despite the obvious distress on her face. "My daughter is dead, Ser. There's not much in this world that will help me now."

"I'm very sorry for your loss, mistress ..."

"Hawke. Leandra Hawke. And thank you."

Suddenly, Cullen could place her face - or her eyes, at least. Her daughter ... "I've met your daughter, I believe, Mistress Hawke. Or," he said suddenly, remembering a second face, "both of your daughters."

"Have you?" She looked surprised. "I suppose, they've done so much work around Kirkwall the last few years ... I didn't know they'd worked with Templars." She muttered the last, inexplicably disapproving. A moment later, she sighed. "My youngest is gone now. Bethany."

Bethany Hawke. Cullen couldn't quite remember her voice, but he remembered her face, lovely and quiet and always a bit nervous. She'd allowed her gregarious older sister to speak for her, but on the rare occasion she spoke, he recalled a quiet sort of compassion. "She was a lovely woman, Mistress Hawke. I'm truly sorry. May I ask how ..."

Leandra shook her head, but answered anyway. "Folly, Ser. Folly, and greed, and pure stubbornness. She should have been here, with me. Or in the ..." She paused, looking up at Cullen. "Tell me, ser, do you enjoy working for the Circle?"

The transition confused Cullen, but he supposed she could be forgiven for a wandering mind. "It's a worthy job," he said carefully. "I'm happy to be doing the Maker's work."

"Yes, but what is it like? The mages, the Templars, everything?"

"It's ... hard to describe." Very different from Kinloch Hold, he thought. Stricter, which was better, as far as he was concerned, but there was something underneath that he couldn't quite place, something that kept him awake at night for no discernable reason. "It's not a life that someone who hasn't lived it can really understand."

"So I've been told," she murmured. Suddenly, she stood. "Thank you, Ser ..."

"Cullen."

"Ser Cullen. You seem a good man. If your fellow Templars are like you, then I wish ..." She waved a hand in the air. "Never mind. No sense in wishing for things now. But thank you for your time. And your sympathy."

He inclined his head. "May the Maker watch over you, Mistress Hawke. You and your daughter."

"I hope he does. I truly do."

Cullen watched her walk away, head held high. In her bearing, he saw echoes of both her daughters. The Hawke women, it seemed, were all formidable creatures. It was too bad that one of them was no longer with them. He resolved to add Bethany Hawke - and her surviving family - to his prayers that evening.


End file.
